Facade
by IceQueen13345
Summary: Christine Daae has just lost everything. Her father, her home. She is forced into living a half-life as the scum of Paris; a prostitute. But soon she is purchased by a mysterious masked man, to whom she has a secret attraction. Soon she comes to be the star of the Opera Populaire, but when an old customer wants her back, Erik will make one thing clear: she belongs to him.
1. The Promise

_****_**Author's Note: **Well, here it is. Chapter 1 of my first story, Facade. Facade deals with rather dark subjects- which begin in chapter 1. So please be aware, this is an M story. Dealing with M situations. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing is- I believe this story is off to a very interesting start, and that chapter 1 is definitely setting the stage for future dramas. I am very excited about this story- but also terribly nervous. Any criticisms are welcome, but this is my first story! Please be kind! Feedback would be lovely :)

_IceQueen13345_

* * *

_**Facade**_

_**Chapter 1. The Promise**_

**~o0o~**

**Just outside of Paris...**

The gentle breeze bristled through the deep green leaves of the trees; it's spidery braches stretching toward the sapphire sky. The sun was high in the center of the sky, beating down relentlessly upon a small town just outside of Paris, France.

A young, eighteen-year-old Christine Daae held back tears, despite the cheerful weather. She ran her fingertips through the dark hair of her father, Gustave, who stared up at her with pain-filled brown eyes. His weak, sweaty hand clutched the back of her neck with all his might. "Christine..." he whispered breathlessly, and his weak voice struck deep into her soul.

"Shh," She whispered, putting her finger to his lips. "Father, do not attempt to speak. Just rest. Close your eyes and rest."

A faint smile came to Gustave Daae's lips, as he looked at his daughter. She was such an image of her mother. So beautiful. She had grown into the lovely young woman he had always prayed she would become. And seeing her now. He was at peace. "Sweet Christine," He said, with a knowing smile on his face, "so young. So innocent. Promise me you will stay... this way... you mustn't... l-lose yourself in the cruelties of... the world..." His voice broke with almost each word.

A tear rolled down Christine's cheek, he couldn't leave her. Not now. "Please... please, do not speak like this. You will- you will be all right. I promise you. You cannot leave me. Everything will be as it was- I prom- "

"Silence, child," Gustave commanded weakly. "I want you to promise me th-that you... will not... lose sight of what you are..."

More tears cascaded down Christine's cheeks, "I-I promise, Father."

"Come close, Christine." Gustave said, and he opened his eyes weakly. Pain rushed through him, but he smiled despite. She was such a beauty. "I will leave you today- "

"No- "

"Silence. I will not be here by the time the sun sets. But you will be protected, my dear. I will- I... will send you the Angel of music t-to guide you..."

"The... Angel of Music?"

Gustave nodded weakly, "He will guide you, teach you. He will be your protector... Have f-faith in him... He will c-c-come..."

"Father, you're hurt. Please do not try to- "

"Christine," Gustave met her gaze with eyes that read knowing, and it struck her to the core, "I am dying." He rasped. He looked up at her once more, his eyes glimmering with tears. With her dark, tumbling curls and shining brown eyes, her porcelain skin and deep red lips- she looked exactly like her mother. No, she was her mother. Julia had always been so kind, so forgiving. An Angel sent from the Heavens. And Christine was the same. Gustave could hardly bare to leave her- his daughter, his life. But seeing her grow, that was all the blessing he needed. "You are so... l-like your mother..." With those final words, Gustave Daae leaned back his head, and closed his eyes for the last time.

Christine began to sob, "Father? No, Father please. Please, come back to me! Come b-b-back..." Christine buried her face in her father's chest, sobbing into him. "Come... back..."

"Ah-em." Someone cleared their throat behind her.

Christine jolted upward and turned, wiping tears from her eyes. She did not recognize the man before her, he had light curls and a pale, skinny face. His eyes were grey and unhappy, and he stared at her as though she made his tedious. "M-may I help you, Monsieur?" Christine asked weakly, still crying despite herself.

"Yes. Mademoiselle Christine Daae?"

"That is I."

"I am sergent Jules Reyer," The man said. His voice was sharp, as though he were cutting through glass. He spoke quickly, but his voice softened, "I... am sorry for your loss, Mademoiselle."

Christine felt a flush of anger, "Please, what is it you want, Monsieur? Forgive me, I do not want visitors- "

"Of course not," He spoke sharply again, all emotional lost. "Forgive me. I come here because there are a few issues with the ownership of this estate. I only wish I could come at a later time, but I am afraid the matter is urgent."

Christine frowned, "Ownership issues? Might I ask of what nature?"

"Mademoiselle- oh, do forgive me for coming at such bad timing- you're father was in terrible debt. He has left you with almost nothing, and I have been informed to come and claim this estate as vacant."

"Pardon me?" Christine cried, "My father has just died! He has been ill in bed for months. There is no possible way he could ever have become in debt!"

Sergent Reyer exhaled, "Please do not make this more difficult than it already is, Mademoiselle Daae."

"You cannot take this estate away from me!" Christine exclaimed, "I have no where else to live!"

"I am afraid that is no concern of mine," The sergent said a bit too angrily, "If you will please pack your things. You have an hour."

**~o0o~**

Christine bit her lip, forcing back tears. It was to no avail, however, for a few hot, stray tears escaped. She walked through the streets of Paris, a bag in either hand. The night was almost upon her, and she had been in and out of building all over the city searching for a job. There were few people on the street, and the occasional carriage passed by. But mostly, Christine was alone. She raised her eyes to the deep blue sky, seeing only one sparkling star in the horizon. "Hello, Father," she whispered to it, her voice raspy. "I am frightened, without you. I miss you so. But I do as you say, and I have faith in my Angel of Music. I- "

"Oi!" Someone called in Christine's direction from the other side of the street. A woman ran across the road and rushed over to Christine. Her face was caked with sot, but her beautiful feature shone through. She had lovely long blonde hair, and piercing green eyes. She had perfect posture. But her accent was cockney, and she was dressed all in rags. "'Ou're a pretty li'll thing. What'd someone like you be doin' out 'ere in the middle of the ni'ght?"

Christine did not bother to fabricate any story. She simply burst into sobs. "Oh, God." she weeped, sitting on one of her bags, "I've lost everything today. I'm lost... I don't even know where I am."

"Oh, Miss," The girl said, "'ou're in the darkest place in all of P'ris, you are. M'name's Anna, by the way. Anna Fosteir." A devilish grin crossed Anna's face, "Say, dearie. You lookin' for a bed to sleep in, ain't you?"

Christine nodded, wary now.

"You're a lovely li'll dear. They'll all treat ya nice, I bet. Come, follow me." Anna led Christine to a dimly lit stone building. Christine was led down a dark corridor, and then Anna led her into a room, which was completely dark. Anna lit a few candles, and Christine saw a sort of foyer. She sat down on a chaise, and Anna went over to a door connecting to the room and knocked on it a few times. "Nellie," She hissed.

The door squeaked open and a woman stepped out. She was beautiful. She had long, straight brown hair hair and gentle blue eyes. Her lips were red and deep and her skin sun-kissed. She looked about thirty years or so. She looked Christine up and down, and grinned, whispering something the Anna.

Christine watched the two, completely bewildered.

Nellie took a step toward Christine, and for some reason Christine instinctivly stepped back. Nellie laughed, a soothing sound. She spoke then, "Christine, is it?"

Christine nodded.

Nellie placed a hand on Christine's shoulder, "Poor dear. You look as though you've been crying." She sounded British, and her voice was syrupy and smooth. Almost menacing. Christine could hear the fabricated pity in Nellie's voice. But somehow she felt drawn to this person. "Anna has told me how you've been lost. But you see, we always have room for you. We accept anybody who is lost."

"You- you do?"

"Of course." Nellie's eyes were blazing, something in the fire in her eyes were frightening, overwhelming. "We are the lovely ladies of the evening. You are a beauty, Christine. Join us, please."

Christine took in a sharp breath, "You are a pro- "

"Don't think of it like _that." _Nellie laughed a light little laugh, fiddling a bit with her hair as if she hadn't a care in the world. "We bring spirits up, my dear. We help young men back on their feet, to give them a sense of masculinity."

"But I am not like you. I am only eighteen- "

"We've 'ad younger," Anna added quickly.

Christine wanted to scream. She yearned to run away. But then... the thought lingered still in her mind. What had she to lose? Her father was dead, her wealth gone. There was no more she could ask for in life. Everything had been take away in a mere instant. Everything that had once been so beautiful, the very fruits of happiness had began to rot just as they reached her hand. A few tears ran down her cheek, but she nodded, "I... I will..."

Nellie smiled a wicked smile. "Wonderful, dear. Don't you cry, lovely. You'll get well paid. I expect you'll have a good few customers this very night. You are a pretty little thing."

Christine let the girls lead her away, let them strip her of her clothing and put on new clothing- terrible clothing. She felt so disgusting, wearing these things, and she observed herself in the mirror of her new bedroom, if you could ever call it that. She looked as all the other did, only she had a clean face. She was still pure. For in this moment, she knew she must shed her innocence. She had to cast away all her prior beliefs. All her fantasies would be shot away in that one moment- most likely tonight. A tear crookedly found it's path down her cheek, and creeped into the corner of her lip, leaving a trail of the salty substance behind on her cheek. She did not bother wiping it away. She would be soon used to crying. Soon used to feeling so disgusting, so filthy. This was her life, her present, her future. Her past one have to be forgotten each night. Each night until salvation.

Each night until her Angel.

She closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer to her father, pleading only for forgiveness. "Christine!" She heard a voice call from downstairs. She looked at her wretched self one last time in the mirror, before turning and going downstairs.

She had a customer.


	2. It's Society's Mask

_****_**Author's Note: **Here is chapter 2 of Facade. I apologize, because this is hardly the most exciting chapter, but I thought it begun to get things in motion... I should be updating chapter 3 very soon- I am very excited about this story. Thank you all for your very kind reviews, favorites, and alerts. I'm quite nervous about this story, and it helps to know that people like it. I am proud of myself, because I updated the story tomorrow and I already have over 20 visitors! I consider that a victory. I think when I get this story rolling, I will begin to publish my other 'stories in the making'. If you would like me to publish any one of my other 3 stories first, please feel free to PM me, or leave a review telling me what you'd prefer.

**WARNING!: **This chapter contains M content, and there is not a warning just before the M bit, because it is smack in the middle of a scene. Please be aware of this. T

Thank you. I'd love to hear what you think, if it isn't too much trouble. :)

_IceQueen13345_

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_**Facade**_

_**Chapter 2- It's Society's Mask**_

**~o0o~**

**In the brothel...**

A summer had turned to winter, and that winter back to summer. A nineteen-year-old Christine Daae stared back at her reflection in the full mirror of her filthy bedchamber. She was still the same young, beautiful woman; with the porcelain skin and sweet, gentle eyes. The dark curls and slender figure. But now, as she looked back at her reflection, she saw the inevitable difference in herself. She had once wore fine dresses made of silk and velvet, but now wore a cleavage-barring black corset, and a tight fitting white dress over it, although the dress seemed to have been cut down far- for it cut off just below her breasts. Her hair was let out, which she had almost never done- certainly not in public. She wore flat, black shoes, similar to ballet slippers. The dress was short sleeved, revealing a trail of bruises and scratched all the way down Christine's arms. As she stared at herself, her eyes began to water. She had never wanted to look like... _this. _

Christine looked down at her hand, in which she held a small purse. The purse was heavy, almost filled to the rim with silver and gold coins. Christine dropped the purse to the floor as if it had been a venomous snake in her hand. It felt like a snake, the way it poisoned her. The way it mocked her. Her eyesight blurred for a moment with a stray tear before clearing again, and she lifted her gaze once more to the mirror.

She heard footsteps scampering up the stairs, and she quickly wiped her tears away. Anna appeared a moment later, wearing an outfit quite similar to Christine, she gave a faint smile, "'Ello Christine."

"Anna." Christine said shortly, trying to hide her face. She did not want Anna to see that she had been crying.

Anna came up and touched Christine's shoulder gently, "are you al'ight, dearie? 'Ave you been crying?"

Christine tried to smile, "A bit. But I'll be- "

"Actually, dearie, I wa'nt sent up 'ere for a social visit. I am sorry, but I am 'formed to tell you thatcha got a customer. Askin' specifically for you."

Christine frowned, "For me?"

"Well, for our youngest girl."

Christine nodded, walking over to her dresser and putting her purse of coins in. "Of course, tell Nellie I'll be right down."

Anna hesitated, she bit her lip, then she spoke in a voice soft and grave, "I didn't wanna life like this either, dearie. But... God only puts us here up on this earth once. And when life just i'nt worth livin', what can you do? Only your best to try to survive."

"Try to survive." Christine echoed; her voice seemed to be distant, and she stared at the floor. Anna didn't move for a moment, and there was only silence in the chamber. But then, Christine heard Anna turn and shuffle away, her feet making light brushing noises on the wooden floors as she went down the stairs.

Christine closed her eyes, tears escaping her lashes. She opened her eyes and raised her eyes to the mirror, to look at a different Christine. A whore. Nothing but scum, wasting her life in a unending torture chamber. She sang softly, in her sweet, angelic voice, her voice breaking a bit; _"Lovely ladies... going for a song... Had a lot of callers... but they never stayed for... long..." _She closed her eyes for a moment, singing still, _"Come on, captain. You can wear your shoes... don't it make a change, to have a girl who can't refuse? Easy... money... lying on a bed, just as well they never see the hate that's in your head... don't they know their making love to one already dead!"_

She turned around and ran from her chambers down the creaking steps, she bit her lip with all her might, biting back the tears she knew would flow down in seconds. She reached the bottom, and found her way to where she always met the men. She opened the door and saw a man turn to face her.

He had a handsome face, kind blue eyes and shoulder-length dark blonde hair. He was muscled, and only a bit taller than her. She looked up at him, trying not to crumble to the ground in sobs that she forced back in her throat./ She wanted to run away, never to touch a man again. But she couldn't. She didn't have near enough money for a real home.

"And you are her?" The man asked. His voice reminded her of something. She could not remember what, it was like a distant memory ringing dimly in her mind.

She stared for a moment, then choked out only one word: "Christine."

Something flashed in his eyes, a sort of knowing. But it was gone as quickly as it had come. "I am Raoul."

Christine simply nodded, feeling strange. She had felt many things in the presence of a man here; disgust, hatred, pain... but never before had she felt _timid _as he made her feel now. She just moved her gaze to the floor.

Several minutes must have past by, for when Christine looked up again Raoul was inches away from her, and she could feel his hot breath upon her bare skin. His eyes cast down upon her, lust-filled. She knew what to expect.

A moment later, he was kissing her. He hadn't begun gently like all the others. Now, he was kissing her with so much for, one of his hands clutching her jawline with such strength. His tongue entered her mouth, searching for her tongue. Christine felt his hand pull her short sleeve down her shoulder. He began leading her toward the bed on the opposite side of the small room.

And soon he pulled away from her, laying her down on the bed. He came atop her and kissed her again, now wandering down to her neck and cleavage.

In moments Christine was almost completely naked, her corset the only scrap of clothing left. Raoul was utterly nude, and was slowly undoing the laces of her black corset with his warm fingers.

When he finally pulled the corset from her chest, casting it aside, he lifted his body from hers and stared at her beauty for a few silent moment. Christine was used to this, but still every time felt like the first, how she wanted to cover herself, to slap the man off of her.

But she let him go on. She let him bring his lips to her breast, let his fingers wander down in between her thighs. Her inner thighs ached so badly, but she even allow him to push into him, holding back the scream of utter pain that was caught in her throat. He pushed deeper, and now she could not help it.

She _screamed. _

Raoulhardly seemed bothered, for he merely brought his lips to hers, to silence her. A few moans escaped his lips, and Christine tried to stay silent, but feeling at though her heart would hammer up her throat for the pain.

But then, Raoul pushed out of her, sliding next to her sweat-covered body. Hours must have gone by, she realized, trying desperately to catch her breath. Raoul dropped a few golden coins on the bed next to Christine, and proceeded to get dressed.

But Christine stayed there, lying on the bed, completely nude. She felt as she did after every customer was through with her; disgusted with herself. Every second she regretted. She breathed evenly, but still did not move until long after night had settled.

**~o0o~**

Erik Destler looked around the empty streets of Pairs, being sure to press himself close to the shadows as he walked. Nobody could see him. He walked slowly, carefully treading.

Soon, he passed a large stone building. On the third floor, a candle was still burning bright, and the window was opened. Erik pressed himself further into the shadows, and just then he saw a silhouette appear in the window. It took a moment to focus, but a young woman became clear. She wore a tight nightdress, and she was coming her long, curly hair by the window. She was beautiful, he could tell from where he was standing down in the long deserted streets. She looked young; sad. Erik saw a few shimmering things on her face, and he realized they were tears, falling down the girl's ivory cheeks.

And then she began to sing. The most unearthly thing he had ever heard.

_"Angel of music... guide and guardian... grant to me your glory_

_Angel of music, hide longer, come to me strange Angel._

_I have been lost in the winter, far from your fathering gaze..._

_I have been waiting for savior, and I'll always obey..._

_My Angel of music, guide and guardian... grant to me your glory... Angel of music, hide no longer, come to me strange Angel..."_

Erik watched this girl for a long time, and he gaze up at the window even when the candle had been blown out. She was so lovely. So perfect. Her voice rang still in his mind, echoing and echoing again.

It was in that one moment that he decided. He would find this girl.

He would be her Angel.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own the bit of the song Christine's sings in the beginning- that is from the show Les Miserables, the song Lovely Ladies. I also do not own the bit of the song she sings at the end, which is Angel of Music... there is a small bit I own, but it's supposed to go along to the melody of the song- which does not belong to me. **

**Author's Note: I promise to make the next chapter longer! I am sorry for the short chapter. But as I said, feedback would be wonderful.**

**_IceQueen13345_  
**


	3. The Purchase

_****_**Author's Note:** Damn it. I had intended on making this chapter longer. Sorry! I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless. I know I did :) Thank you all for all your wonderful reviews. I will be updating when I can (which so far has been every day haha, but I will have to slow down eventually. School is starting Thursday). Again, my apologies about the short chapter. Reviews are appreciated.

_IceQueen13345_

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_**Facade  
Chapter 3- The purchase**_

**~o0o~  
In the brothel**

Christine tossed her legs over the side of the bed, her skirts raising themselves to her upper thighs. She stood and let them fall back below her diamond shaped kneecaps. She stretched out her arms and yawned a bit, blinking so that her eyes adjusted to the streaming sunlight. She walked toward her mirror, stripping off her clothing. Soon, she was naked, staring at herself. She looked at her reflection, seeing new, fresh bruises along her skin, mostly on her thighs. Her body ached, and she rubbed her shoulder a bit, cursing Raoul silently, whoever he was. She felt as though she needed to bathe, even though the night before she had taken hours in the washtub, scrubbing away every essence of man. But still she felt filthy, disgusting. As though she were covered in grime. The sting of pain she had felt was still there; although the pain was no longer inside of her, but in her heart. It felt broken again, as it always had. She detested feeling so repulsive, so empty and robbed of any goodness or common sense. Every day- every moment she rued ever having accepted residence here. Ever allowing to have her maidenhood snatched away in one moment by some drunken, lusting man whom she had never met.

She combed through her hair a bit, before going towards the washrooms. She simply felt dirty. She filled the washtub with warm water, and sat down inside it, closing her eyes and allowing herself to lay back and breathe a sigh of serenity. She was alone; it was quiet. It was warmth that surrounded her, not the darkness that ensued her soul. Now, she was able to close her eyes and wash away the pains. But just for these few fleeting moments. She knew that all too soon it would be over; the water would turn cold and she'd begin to shiver. And then she would have to get out, and allow herself to be taken again. Allow herself to be defiled.

But she would not think of that now. She closed her eyes and let her hands rest on her abdomen, leaning her head against the edge of the washtub.  
"Christine?" A voice called. Anna entered the washroom a moment later, seeming completely unbothered at Christine being nude.

Christine sat up, feeling quite uncomfortable at being naked in front of another woman, "Yes, Anna? Was there something you needed?"  
"Not me, lovely. Nellie. She's got a real important customer, and he will not accept any other girl but you. He insisted upon it, he did. Strange thing is, he knew you. Not your name, o'course, but he could describe whatcha looked like. It was a bit frightening."  
Christine sat up, taking a stray cloth and wrapping it about herself as she stood from the washtub, water dripping off of her ivory skin. "He knew me? Do you know his name, Anna?"  
Anna shrugged unknowingly, "Couldn't say, dearie. I don't think he gave a name- they often don't, you can imagine. They don't come 'ere for casualties. But he was tall, broad-shouldered, muscled. He'll bruise you up bad, that's for sure. But he seemed quite gentle to me. But oh, who am I to judge?"  
Christine blinked confusedly at Anna's ramblings. "Yes... Yes, I'll be there in a moment. Just allow me to get dressed- "  
"No, Nellie said to come straight there, wrapped up in your towel, if you like." She snorted, "Not as if you'll keep you're close on for long anyway. He seemed like a pretty eager- "  
"I am coming." Christine said sharply, not abiding Anna's nonsense. She tightened the towel around her body, making sure her body was- for the most part- concealed. She felt quite uncomfortable as she walked down the halls, passing a few whores as she did. Her hair dripped a bit from the water, and she squeezed it out, letting the towel drop to one side for a moment.  
Then the two young woman reached the foyer area. Christine entered, and she saw a man standing before her, just feet away. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his chest and and arms were muscled and hard-looking. He had dark black hair, that had been combed back. He had a white mask on the right half of his face. He was handsome, but his most catching feature were his eyes.  
He had murky green eyes, a bit of grey mixed into them. They were breathtaking, and Christine just stared into them, as if she were hypnotized. It was almost as if she could see deep inside his soul. She saw a blur of sadness, and gentleness. He gazed back at her, and Christine realized, there was something missing from his eyes- lust.  
All the men she had ever came to terms with had been lusting for a woman's flesh. It read in their eyes so clearly she was almost frightened of the look. But with him, it was completely a kind, honest look. And she could see a sea of emotion building in just those two smoky green eyes.  
Nellie stood next to him, and she tapped her foot on the wooden floor impatiently, watching Christine expectantly.  
Christine snapped back to the reality, "Monsieur." She said softly, staring straight into his eyes, "I am... Christine Daae..."  
_Christine. _Erik could hear her name over and over again in her mind. She was lovely. Daae? Hadn't he heard that name before? "Mademoiselle," Erik said, his voice smooth and silky. Calming. "I am Monsieur Erik Destler."  
Christine simply nodded, tearing her gaze away from him. She knew what would happen next.  
But surprisingly, Erik turned to Nellie. He handed her a fist-full of coins, "I think that shall do, Madame."  
Nellie nodded, smiling down at all the gold in her hands.  
"What will do?" Christine inquired, curiosity taking her.  
Nellie raised her eyes to Christine, "My dear, Monsieur Destler has just purchased you."  
Christine felt as though time slowed. Her heart began to thump wildly and her breathing quickened. "What?" She exclaimed, "Nellie, I am not property to be sold! I... I..."  
"You became property the moment you stepped through that door," Nellie said darkly, pointing at the threshold of the door leading to the hallway. "You shall pack your things and leave the brothel with Monsieur Destler."  
"I will- !"  
"Christine." Nellie said sharply. "I am afraid you do not understand the delicacy of your situation. You belong to him now. He is your master. As was every man that paid you before today, though they were only for a few fleeting hours. Nevertheless, you are no longer a person of civil choices. You do as you're told and you accept it."

Christine forced back tears, returning her gaze to Erik's. What did he want from her? No. No, she knew the answer to that. It all felt so wrong...  
She had expected him to take her then, before returning to his estate. But instead he looked at her blankly, "Have you no decency? Dress yourself!"  
Christine had never felt so happy in her life. He wanted her to dress! That was the first time... She let out a small laugh of joy, and smiled, "Yes, Monsieur." She exited the foyer, and ran up to her dressing room, changing quickly and finishing combing her hair. She picked up her two small bags that were hardly ever unpacked anymore. She went quickly down the steps, hardly making a sound.  
She reached Erik again, and the two went on their way.  
Erik led her out to a black carriage, pulled by two black mares. Erik opened the carriage door for Christine, gesturing for her to enter. She sat down, looking about the carriage. It was lovely; red leather seats and a velvet cloth on the ceiling. She had expected Erik to get in after her, but he said to her, "I shall be driving." And shut the door with a small _click. _

**~o0o~**

The carriage ride seemed to last forever. The road was a bit bumpy, for they were driving upon rock now. Christine could hear the sound of the horses hooves on the pavement, and Erik's soft humming. Even though it was difficult to hear him, Christine could tell he had a lovely voice. It was rich and comforting.  
Soon, the two came to a large estate. The home was huge and made of stone, it had vines growing on the sides of it, making it look even more beautifully crafted. There was a gorgeous garden at the front of the house, and a few lights on in the house.  
When the carriage came to a halt, and Erik had helped Christine from to carriage, she looked up at the house, asking quietly, "This is where you live?"  
A small small of satisfaction came to Erik's face, "Sometimes."  
The two entered the house, and Christine was completely dumbfounded. It was so beautiful, chandeliers in most rooms, elegant furniture. It was wonderful here, she decided, satisfied.  
It was almost as if Erik could read her thoughts, "There are fourteen bedchambers." He said, smiling a bit at her fascination. "Do you think you shall like it here?"  
"Oh, I do." Christine said. It reminded her of her father's old estate. Only this was quite bit larger.  
"Come, I will show you to your bedchamber." Erik said, leading her up some white marble staircases.  
Christine bit her lip, a bit wary of him now. Where would he lead her? And what would he do when they got there?  
Erik stopped at the top of the steps and turned around. Christine felt her breathing stop. "How foolish of me," Erik said kindly, reaching for Christine, "Please, Mademoiselle. Allow me to take your luggage."  
Christine handed them to Erik, and stared at him unbelievingly as he turned around and lead her up one last flight of stairs. They came to a corridor, and he led her down it, stopping at the third door to the left. He opened the room and waited for Christine to enter before he did.  
Christine looked about the room. It was spectacular, a large crystal chandelier in the center of a marble ceiling, and a incredibly large, comfortable looking bed with golden colored sheets. A vanity stood against a wall, and a chaise near it. Next to the bed on either side was a night table, with a beautifully crafted crystal lamp.  
Erik set her bags down next to the bed, "Will this do for you?"  
"Yes." Christine said breathlessly. "It's lovely."  
Erik chuckled a bit, "It is. You may look in the dressed over there and these drawers, I took the liberty of getting you some new clothes and jewelry. I hope they will be to your liking."  
Christine went over to her night table, and opened the drawer of the wooden table. Inside, she saw boxes upon boxes of jewelry cases, and she picked a large one up and opened it. Rubies and diamonds crested in sterling silver shined in the light burning down from her chandelier. It was the most beautiful necklace she had ever seen. "This is wonderful," She breathed. She closed the box and shut the door, turning back to Erik, "Thank you."  
Erik smiled a bit, but only a bit, "Yes. You're quite welcome." There was a moment of silence that clung to the air, and Christine just stared at Erik, soaking in the sight of him, his voice, his words. Every feature.  
Erik spoke then, cutting through the silence, "Yes, well, I shall leave you to your thoughts then. I will call you for supper within the hour. You may look around the house if you wish." He looked as though her wanted to add something else, but he simply turned around and walked toward the door.  
"Monsieur?" She called to him.  
He turned around.  
Christine bit her lip, feeling a bit embarrassed, "Why... did you bring me here?"  
Erik smiled a bit, "I wanted to help you. You seemed to unhappy. One with beauty and purity such as yours deserves to enjoy life, not live at the bottom of it."  
"I am not so pure as you think."  
"I know very well what I you mean. But I can see it in you. With your... _expieriences _perhaps you are not pure, but in your heart you are."  
With those final words, Erik exited the bedchamber, and shut the door firmly behind him.


	4. Devotion

_****_**Author's Note: **This chapter is about 4 1/2 pages. I know that isn't too long, but I was fairly satisfied with this chapter, and I simply didn't have the inspiration to have it keep going. This bit of the story isn't terribly exciting, I know. But soon they will get to the Opera and meet Raoul and it'll pick up. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'm sorry because toward the ending of the chapter I got lazy and sort of slacked off. So that ending isn't very good. My apologies. Thank you all for reviewing, favoriting, or adding me or my story to your alert list. Each one of you is appreciated. Criticism is welcome, I'd actually really appreciate ways for me to improve my writing.

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the song Erik sing, nor the song Christine sings. Those two songs are 'Lost in the Darkness' and 'A New Life' from Frank Wildhorn's Jekyll and Hyde. But they are very lovely songs, so I suggest all of you go listen to them ;)

_IceQueen13345_

* * *

_**Facade**_

_**Chapter 4- Devotion **_

**~o0o~**

**At Destler Manor...**

Erik lay in his bed, his murky green eyes scanning across his room until they reached his window. It was early morning, he could tell, with bland pinks and a mix of blue with the fiery orange sun only beginning to rise. The sunrise was breathtaking, he watched in awe of the beauty of the sunrays beginning to stretch out their arms triumphantly. He had always enjoyed watching the sunrise; it had been the only place he had found serenity in his younger years. The only beauty, he had thought, was in the supernatural, so far out of reach and even so humankind got a taste of beauty.

Until he had found Christine.

She was lovely in every way, her voice was beautiful, and she was exquisite- her features that of an Angel in every way. When Erik had seen her the first time, he had seen her unhappiness. Such a creature, he decided, did not deserve such pain. To be forced into that dark fate that she had been.

Erik had never liked giving into his male instincts. He never enjoyed going to brothels- but he had known nobody else could ever love him. He had never imagined that he'd find Christine, someone who he could help. Someone who's life had been destroyed, just as his had been. Darkness ensued her, the cold, menacing darkness that had encircled him in his youth until now. He could never allow someone the same fate as he. No, especially not such a beautiful creature as Christine. He could still see her purity; still see clearly the innocence in her eyes- the self-abhor he had felt towards himself all these years.

He yearned to teach her, to turn her life back towards the light that she deserved. Then, he supposed she would leave him. But he would savor the time he would spend with her. He would be good to her, show her happiness and beauty, all that he had been robbed of.

Erik stood from his bed, looking into his mirror. He grimaced at his distortion, and quickly took his mask from his nightstand and put it onto his face. It was a terribly stiff thing, and often was quite uncomfortable, but Erik had gotten used to it. He had become so accustomed to limits, it almost seemed as if they weren't there. He bit his lower lip a bit and removed his mask, looking at his malformation once more.

He was repulsive, abhorrent in every way. Red and scarred, his face was lined with hideous bloodstained flesh, as if his skin had been slowly picked away with a sharp object. Just beneath his right eye, it was pitted, looking as if there was a half-formed hole. The corner of his mouth sagged down a bit, and though it was only slightly, it still gave a forever-grimacing expression. His right eyebrow cut off about halfway the length of a normal eyebrow, turning into a miniature red bump on his forehead. On the side of his face, a few veins were clear, hidden slightly by the red scars and scratches, but still, you could ever so slightly see them pulsing blue blood through his veins.

Erik put his mask back on, barring his teeth in a disgusted expression, which had only made him look more frightening. The other side of his face was rather handsome, almost perfect. Erik closed his eyes, remembering the day he had first seen himself in the mirror. He had been terrified of himself, thinking there was a monster staring back at him. He had pounded his small fists into the mirror as hard as he could, beginning to throw a temper fit.

Now, thinking back upon it, Erik knew why he had gotten the distortion. He knew how it came about, and he cursed his past, all the people in it. He longed to forget it, to escape from theses horrors. But it was not possible.

"Monsieur?" Came the sweet voice of Christine, from the opposite side of the door.

Erik jumped a bit, surprised to suddenly hear her voice, he went to the door, "Good morning, Christine."

Christine smiled a bit, "Good morning, Monsieur."

"Please, call me Erik." Erik insisted politely. He saw a bit of surprise in Christine's eyes, but she merely smiled and repeated his name nicely. He did adore hearing his name upon her lips, like a whisper.

"Was there something you needed?" Erik asked, staring at her with fascination.

Christine shook her head, "I merely wanted to inform you that I am going to go out to the gardens, look around perhaps. I was hoping you would not mind?"

"Of course not. I hope you slept well?"

Christine nodded, "Very. Thank you."

Christine turned away then, and Erik shut the door firmly behind her. He sat down on his bed, thinking of her. She had seemed so dispirited when he had seen her, and now her eyes were aglow with wonder. She enjoyed staying here, which was clear. Erik only hoped she enjoyed having him there. That was all that mattered to him.

He knew that soon enough he would have to return to the Opera House, and that would come as a shock to Christine. But Erik could find his way through that. Erik moved his eyes to the piano in the corner of his large bedchamber. He slowly made his way toward it, thoughts whirling about in his mind. He would protect this girl, no matter what means necessary.

He approached his piano and began to play a few notes, which turned into long verses of breathtakingly beautiful music. And then he began to sing, his devotion for Christine. But he did not know that Christine peered in from the door, which was slightly open. The music caressed her very soul, and she closed her eyes, a slight smile on her face as he sang.

_"Lost in the darkness..._

_Silence surrounds you..._

_Once, there was morning_

_Now, endless night..._

_If I could reach you_

_I'd guide you and teach you..._

_To walk from the darkness_

_Back into the light..."_

Erik drew a breath, thinking only of her. He would save her from the blackness of hatred; he would show her back to the light.

_"Deep in your silence._

_Please, try to hear me_

_I'll keep you near me_

_'Til night passes by_

_I will find the answer_

_I'll... never desert you._

_I promise you this._

_Til the day_

_That I_

_...Die..."_

**~o0o~**

Christine walked through the gardens; humming the song she had heard Erik singing before. It was beautiful. His voice was bewitching, infatuating. He was so kind to her. He looked at her as if she were pure, gentle. For the first time in over a year, she felt girlish. Excited about...

What?

Why had she watched Erik from the other side of the door? Why did she feel a mysterious pull to him? He entranced her, fascinated her. She yearned to learn more of him.

Inquiries rose in her mind unceasingly, did he write that song for her? Was he as bewildered as she? Why had he purchased her, if he was not using her as all the other man had? He gave her home, wealth, clothing, food, and he treated her with incredible kindness. He treated her as if she were a woman, instead of a whore he had purchased from a brothel.

Suddenly, a thought came to her. She stopped walking, her breath catching. She had been so foolish to ask these questions, with the answer so clearly in front of her. Erik had given her so much, taken her from that terrible place. Erik had saved her...

It was inevitable. Erik was her Angel of Music, her savior.

A slight smile came to her face as the realization came to her. She lifted her eyes to the large stone house, singing softly to her Angel.

_"A new life..._

_What I wouldn't give to have a new life..._

_One thing that I've learned _

_As I go through life_

_Nothing is for free along the way..._

_A new start_

_That's the thing I need_

_To give me a new heart_

_Half a chance in life to find a new part..._

_Just a simple roll that I can play"_

She had yearned for salvation so many days at a time, weeks, months. Even in that one year staying in that Hell felt like an eternity, slowly eating her away, customer by customer. But now she was here, safe in the arms of her Angel.

_"A new hope_

_Something to convince me to renew hope_

_A new day_

_Bright enough to help me find my way!_

_A new chance..._

_One that maybe has a touch of romance..._

_Where can it be? The chance for me..."_

Her Angel would protect her, guide her. Everything would become clear.

From his bedroom window, Erik peered down at Christine in the garden, singing to herself. He smiled, hearing her voice once more ringing out in all its beauty.

_"A new dream..._

_I have one I know_

_That very few dream_

_I would like to see that overdue dream_

_Even though- it may never come true_

_A new love!_

_Though I know there's no such thing as true love..._

_Even so, although I never knew love_

_Still I feel that one dream is my due!_

_A new world- this one thing that I want to ask of you, world- _

_Once! Before it's time to say adieu, world!_

_One sweet chance to prove the cynics wrong..."_

Erik was watching her so intensely. She was so beautiful, her voice piercing through the morning's crisp air. She was an Angel, no matter how she diminished herself the fact would still plainly be there. Erik would show this girl happiness. God, how she deserved it.

_"A new life!_

_More and more I'm sure as I go through life!_

_Just to play the game, and pursue life_

_Just to share its pleasure and belong!_

_That's what I've been here for_

_All along!_

_Each day's_

_A brand new life!"_

Christine drew a breath, she sighed deeply. She smiled a bit to herself, for once, feeling happiness creep upon her. She turned for the blossoming garden, and ran back toward the house, to see her Angel.


	5. In His Eyes

_****_**Author's Note: **Well I am very pleased with this chapter's length. It is 8 pages, which I find a victory, since all my others are about 4 pages or so. I am so sorry, however, because I had planned to get to some drama or acting or SOMETHING. But it ended up that it was all E/C stuff. There is a sort of cliffhanger at the end, I suppose. Nothing world shattering. But there will be some of those :) Ugg I am terrible at this. I have a terrible habit of dragging a story along forever, and I guess I have yet to break it. I promise, though, within the next few chapters I will get some drama and real cliffes in there somewhere!

I have to give a HUGE thanks to HeartsBroken for being a faithful reader- and for giving me a mention in her story! She's in my favorite authors list, as you'll see, and I recommend her stories highly! They really are wonderful :)

This chapter is 3,000 some words. I will have longer chapters, but that happen when I get into some serious drama, and I get caught up in the chapter and I blink and- look! It's already 10 pages long, with so much more to write! so get excited. Get very excited. Thanks to anyone who helped me with this chapter, Kate Pendragon, HeartsBroken (you gave me inspiration!), Rose Diamund,  Phantom-of-the-Opera-Phan, and msroseross07. And thanks in advance to anyone who will review on this chapter! You guys keep me going :)

_IceQueen13345_

* * *

_**Facade**_

_**Chapter 5- In His Eyes**_

**~o0o~**

**At Destler Manor**

Christine crossed her ankles under the dining table, glancing up at Erik- who sat opposite her- anxiously. She took a small sip of her water, and timidly set it down again. She heard him ask her softly, "Did you enjoy your walk in the gardens?"

She looked up at him, to see him returning the gaze, "Yes," She said, "It's so lovely there. Everything seems to be blooming. Did you do the gardens yourself?"

"Oh God, no," Erik replied, a bit of amusement lighting in his eyes. "I wouldn't know the first thing to do with a garden."

Christine's eyes fell down the white napkin in her lap, "And what is your specialty, then?"

"Music." Erik said simply.

"What music do you write?"

"Operas, mostly."

Christine wiped her mouth delicately with her napkin, "Then you are writing an Opera now, I expect?"

"I am indeed." Erik watched her, his stare unwavering. "I am hardly ever able to get anything done for it nowadays."

"Why is that?"

Erik gave Christine a sort of hidden smile, "I have been quite busy as of late." She was anxious, he could tell. How she shifted around every few moments, re positioning herself. She failed to meet his gaze, and when she did look up at him it was only for a moment, and he could see a flash of questioning in her light brown eyes. And why was she asking him all this?

"Do you suppose I could see your Opera? Read it?"

"I had hoped you would sing it."

"Sing it?"

Erik smiled, "Of course. I heard you sing the night before I came to you. I was entranced by your voice. I had hoped to hear you sing once more, to train you to sing perhaps a bit better. Your voice is excellent, but, forgive me, untrained. I would be truly honored if I could give you lessons for your voice. You see... I am in association with the Paris Opera House. I have quite a bit of expierience."

Christine felt herself blushing, and she cursed herself silently. "Please, Monsieur. I would love to be taught by you. The honor would be mine."

"Would you mind terribly if we began today?"

"Today?"

"Yes."

"Y-Yes, of course." Christine stuttered. She bit her lip to hide her growing smile. He would give her lessons.

Christine dared not speak for the rest of breakfast. She knew she would say something foolish; she always did whenever she was anxious. She could feel Erik's gaze on her, but she looked down into her lap, biting her lower lip and acting as if she did not see him. It was peculiar, she thought, that he did not reveal himself to her as her Angel. Surely, he would tell her, would he not?

She found herself looking up at him once more, cursing herself for the curiosity. He was not paying attention to her, however. He was simply staring down. At what, she did not know. All she knew was he was not looking at her.

She continued to stare, questions bobbing through her mind as they did so often when she saw him. He was handsome, his body muscular and he had a sort of presence about him, something that drew your utter attention, and made you long for his in return. And once again Christine found herself staring at his eyes- although he did not meet her gaze, his dazzling green eyes were quite clear to her, and she stared into them relentlessly. Something in them, a mist of gentleness, a tapestry of wanting. Something in his eyes was simply breathtaking, and still she knew not what. Secrets seemed all to become unveiled in his eyes. Everything else seemed to be washed away.

At last, she tore her gaze away from his eyes ruefully, knowing she could stare for hours, just watching him. She found her eyes wander to a mask, placed expertly on the right half of his face. It was clean and pure white, melting perfectly into that half of his face as if it belonged there. She tilted her head off to the side, one question rising above them all. _Why is he wearing a mask? _

Erik looked up, and for one breathless moment a gaze clung between the two that spoke louder than any words ever uttered. Embarrassed, Christine looked away, feeling as though all the breath had been taken from her lungs. She drew a silent, short breath, feeling his gaze upon her.

"Are you finished?" He asked, his voice cutting through the silence.

Christine looked up, "Pardon?- oh, yes. I am." She allowed her plate to be taken away, and for a few moment the two sat in silence once more.

Erik stood, "Perhaps we should begin?"

"Y-yes," Christine answered, rising from her chair. She followed Erik into the hall, and allowed him to lead her down to a small, dark room. Erik went over to a few candles and lit them, the room suddenly becoming aglow. Christine saw a large organ placed in the room, and bookshelves filled with music concertos and opera scores. Papers scattered along the top of the organ, but Erik paid no heed to them. He simply made he was through the organ and riffled through the papers for a few moments. When it looked as though he'd found what he was looking for, he hand the few pages to Christine. "I had hoped we could start with this." He said shortly.

Christine took the papers, reading through them briefly, "It... is wonderful..."

"I know it is hardly the best you can do," Erik said regretfully, "and I will make one more to your standard. But I had hoped that for the time being this would do."

"Please, you think too highly of me." Christine blushed, "This is lovely."

A brief smile came to Erik, and he sat down at his organ, saying a few words before playing the overture, "You may begin whenever you are ready."

Christine nodded, knowing he could not see her, but she was hardly able to speak. Her eyes followed the music until she found where she was to begin:

_"I peer through the window... Watch life, go by_

_Dream of tomorrow_

_And, wonder why_

_The past is holding me_

_Keeping life at bay_

_I wander lost in yesterday..._

_Wanting to fly, but scared to try..."_

Erik smiled as Christine's voice echoed through his mind. She was so beautiful, perhaps _too _beautiful. Erik felt whole again, hearing her sing. Perhaps for the first time in many years.

_"But if... someone, like you_

_Found someone, like me_

_Then suddenly... nothing would ever be the same_

_My heart would take wing, and I'd feel so alive... If someone like you, found me..._

_Some many secrets, I've longed to share_

_All that I've needed, is someone there_

_To help me see a world, I've never seen before_

_A love to open every door_

_To set me free_

_So I can soar..."_

Christine stared at Erik's back, taking in a large breath. She watched his fingers glide across the organ, as if he had memorized every inch of it.

_"If someone, like you_

_Found someone, like me_

_Then suddenly- nothing would ever be the same_

_There'd be a new way to live,_

_And a new life to love_

_If someone like you, found me..._

_Ohh if someone, like you_

_Found someone like me_

_Then suddenly, nothing would ever be the same!_

_My heart would take wing_

_And I'd feel so alive!"_

Erik closed his eyes, Christine's voice caressing him. She was everything that he had ever dreamed for. Such beauty and purity, just in her voice.

_"If.. someone, like you_

_Loved me..._

_Loved me..._

_Lo-oved, me..."_

**~o0o~**

Christine sat in Erik carriage, drumming her fingers against the cool glass of the window. She pressed herself into the leather seats, closing her eyes and sighing lightly. The carriage rocked a bit, but it was calm, soothing. Erik had asked her to come to the carriage, for he had needed to go to his other home. A few of Christine's bags rested at her feet.

After a bit, Christine saw that they were back in Paris, driving along the busy streets. She also noticed that Erik wore a black hood, concealing his face and drawing a shadow across it.

Soon the carriage passed by the Paris Opera House. Christine stared in awe at the large, white stone building before her. It stood triumphantly before her, decorated and gleaming in the sunlight. The carriage turned a corner just at the end of the Opera House, down a darkly lit alleyway Christine had not known existed. The carriage stopped.

A moment later, Christine's door opened. Erik had removed his hood, and was standing before her, his hand extended to help her out of the carriage. She took it an exited, looking about herself as Erik took her bags from inside. "Where are we?"

"The side of the Opera House," Replied Erik tonelessly.

Christine frowned, "What are we doing here?"

Erik sighed, closing his eyes. He looked down at Christine, "I cannot explain now. Not here. I... need you to trust me."

Christine did not react for a moment, but she nodded slowly.

With the hand not carrying Christine's bag, Erik offered Christine his hand. She took it, and he led her down the alleyway a few feet, and then stopped. Christine faced stone wall. She frowned, "Erik? Why do we stop here?"

Erik did not bother to reply. He crouched down on his knees and Christine saw him fiddling with something on the ground. Erik grunted a bit, and Christine realized he was pushing on something.

Suddenly, the ground seemed to move. A large piece of stone that had formerly been the pavement floor moved off to the side, revealing a long, dark staircase leading downwards. Erik lit a candle that Christine did not know he had been carrying.

Erik shot her a desperate look, "Forgive me, Christine. This must all be quite a shock to you."

He took her hand again, and the two begin descending the steps after Erik closed the entryway by putting back the large slaver of stone.

Christine tried not to show her fear. It was so dark down here, and shadowy as well. As if anything could be lurking behind them. The candle was the only light, and it was hardly as bright as she would hope. But, holding Erik's hand made her feel protected. As if he would guard her.

Soon the staircase ended, and they were merely walking down a level corridor. Christine saw cobwebs everywhere, and she could hear the drip of water leaking somewhere throughout the tunnel.

At last, Christine saw a vague glow of light, only a few feet before her. She realized that it was a drape covering the light. Erik pushed the red drape aside, and then pushed something else open. A door, perhaps?

But when they exited the corridor, Christine realized he had pushed open a mirror. And it led to a breathtaking room.

The floors were made of stone, and off on one side there was a swan shaped bed with red blankets. ON another side was a massive organ, and scattered along the spacious room were candles, spindly-handled and lit brightly. The was always a lake, she saw, filled with a blue-grey water that looked terribly frigid, and a boat tied to a post near a few small steps. There was a brass gate across the lake, that was down now. And she saw the small lake expand into a larger one beyond the gate.

Christine looked around with wonder, her eyes lighting just as the candles did. "What is this place?" She asked slowly.

"This is my domain, my own lair." Erik said.

"And... where are we?"

"Just beneath the Opera Populaire, of course." Erik answered, a slight smile on his face. "Do you like it here?"

"It is beautiful..."

Erik looked about, scanning across his lair, "Yes. It is, is it not? Quite lovely."

"Shall I be staying here?"

"For the time being. I much prefer staying here to the manor."

"Then why have it?"

Erik replied, "I have a friend, he lives there mostly, though I pay all the expenses for it. I suppose I gave it to him."

"Why did I not meet him?"

"He is not here at present. He is off in Persia, on business. Now, never mind about that. I expect you should be famished. I'll prepare supper for you."

**~o0o~**

Christine tightened her nightdress a bit, smiling at the melody Erik played on his organ. When the music finished, she spoke to him softly, "It is beautiful."

Erik turned and looked at her, "Thank you. I hope you will feel at home here."

"Yes," Christine said, her eyes casting upon him in such a way he could not describe. "I believe I will."

When she yawned, he stood, "You must be exhausted. I will let you sleep."

Christine looked about, "There is only one bed..."

"I will sleep on the floor," Erik said hastily.

"No," Christine said, almost too forcefully. Her voice softened, "I do not want to make you uncomfortable in your own home."

"Christine..."

"Please."

Erik sighed, running his fingers through his black hair. "All right."

Christine settled into bed, pulling the covers over her shoulders and trying to close her eyes, but they kept popping open. Over at the other end of the room, Erik was blowing all the candles. But when he finished, he slowly made his way over to the bed, where Christine was already laying.

He sank underneath the blankets, being sure that there was a gap between Christine and himself.

Christine could feel him beside her, just inches away. But she did not move. She just closed her eyes, and tried to fall asleep.

**~o0o~**

**In the morning...**

Christine awoke, her body pressed into Erik's. He was sleeping as well, his breathing steady and slow. This was the closest she had ever been to him, she realized. She must have rolled over in the night, for now she was practically on top of him, her head resting on his shoulder, and their chests pressed together. His warmth was welcoming, calming. And she closed her eyes. But she realized it would be worse if he awoke like this as well, she scooted away from his slowly, as to not wake him. She stood from the bed and looked around the lair.

Papers were everywhere, scattered arias and opera scores, just like in his manor. Christine turned around a corner, and saw a seperate little area. There was not much furniture, only as small table with a music box on top of it, and small stack of papers.

Christine sat down in a small stool just in front of the table. She smiled and chuckled a bit at seeing a statue of a monkey, dressed in red Persian robes on the monkey box, golden cymbals in its hands. She pressed a little button, and a moment later the monkey began to clap the cymbals together in a sort, sweet tune. She smiled, enjoying the little melody.

She picked up the papers, curious now. They were mostly unfinished letters, and in most of them Erik's handwriting was so shaky that they were not legible. The only recurring thing Christine observed was that all of these letters were signed by 'O.G.'. She wondered what the letters stood for, but hardly gave it any thought, for she heard Erik stir.

She walked back over to the bed, her eyes meeting the sleepy eyes of Erik, who stretched a bit and sat up. "Good morning," He said in a deep tone.

Christine smile brightly, "Good morning."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Very. And yourself?"

Erik nodded, smiling.

Hours passed by, through the hours Christine received another lesson, but mostly the two merely talked. Christine found new things about Erik, how he was humorous, kind-hearted, but most of all, he was seductive. It seemed everything he did made Christine feel... she could not even describe the feeling. She had never felt this way toward a man, was all she knew. He fascinated her in ways she could not understand herself. He made her feel human. She had hardly realized it, but all through her time at the brothel, she had abandoned the human race. She had been a creature of night. And now, here with Erik... everything fit into place.

He was her Angel.

"Erik?" She asked softly, her eyes suddenly averting his.

"Yes?" Erik answered, a bit concerned. He could hear a change in her tone, a sudden alteration in her eyes.

"I... I have found something that I suspected to be true. I have not spoken of it to you yet, because I suppose I am foolish, even to myself." Christine said slowly.

"And what is have you discovered?"

"You... to be my Angel of Music..." Christine said weakly, finally her eyes meeting his.

Erik almost couldn't breathe. What would he say to her? How could he possibly reply? And so he said, breathless, "Yes."

Christine let out the breath she had been holding. Her eyes meeting Erik's in a stare so meaningful that her mind went completely blank. All she could think of was him, sitting before her, staring deep into his eyes. His eyes shining so.

"But, Christine," Erik spoke once more, his voice shaking a bit, "There has been something I have longed to tell you. I was afraid, so many emotions must have been swirling within you, and even in myself, I hadn't any idea where to start." His eyes met hers, and she read a spark of determination within his murky eyes. "But now I see all secrets are being cast away, and so I believe this is the right moment to unveil mine. Because, Christine, the truth of it all is that I love you."


	6. Christine's Melody

_****_**Author's Note: **Damn. Another short chapter. Well, I hope I made it a bit more interesting with the unfolding drama! Oh, and for that one comment that asks why Christine isn't acting like movie Christine, the answer is: this is a different Christine. I mean, it is the same Emmy Rossum portrayal with the same basic character and personality, but she wasn't raised at the Opera, she was raised with her Father because she lost him at eighteen. So she was raised differently, so her character is slightly altered. I suppose this is a "what if Christine didn't go to the Opera as a child" story. Hope that answered your question!

_IceQueen13345_

* * *

_**Facade**_

_**Chapter 6- Christine's Melody**_

**~o0o~**

**Underneath the Opera House**

Christine felt as if her actions came quicker than her thoughts. Her heart began to thump wildly as she stared into the eyes of her Angel; those mesmerizing green eyes. They captivated her, perhaps even seduced her. In her mind all the words came clearly, but she found that no words passed her lips. She felt her eyes close, and she was surrounded by darkness for a moment. When she opened her eyes, Erik was inches from her face, his eyes meeting hers in a passionate gaze. She could feel his heated breath on her neck.

She was inches away from his tender touch, and Christine felt his hand brush her chin, and heat shot through her body. She leaned a bit closer into him, their lips a breath away from one another. Slowly, gently, Christine brushed her lips against his, feeling his hand run down her arm. Her eyes fluttered closed, feeling rosebushes of red bloom over her cheeks. She pulled away slowly, her eyes opening and she met Erik's gaze. His thumb ran down along her cheek, "Oh, Christine."

He rested his forehead against hers, and she felt some of his tears run onto her, "Angel..." She said softly.

**~o0o~**

Raoul smiled at the applause of the stage workers. Opera Managers Richard and Andre had just announced that the Vicomte Raoul De Chagny was the new patron of the opera populaire. He could see the stares of the chorus girls, and hear their girlish giggles and whispers. All except one chorus girl, who merely stared at him in fascination. She caught his eye, something about her was strange. She was beautiful, he could see, with long blonde hair and compelling blue eyes, that sparkled with wonder. She looked back at him, hardly batting an eye. She was slender and tall.

An older woman- who's name was Giry, Raoul believed- came up to the young blonde girl, and said something to her. The girl nodded and turned, leaving the stage. But not before giving Raoul one fleeting glance over her shoulder, but afterwards she turn back around and sprinted away.

Raoul later learned that the girl's name was Meg Giry, daughter of Madame Giry, the older woman he had seen speak to her before. But by this time, Raoul was walking down a long corridor, not quite sure where he was going. The opera was a large, old building, and Raoul had decided to look around a bit. His eyes moved down to the floor, which squeaked terribly.

Raoul thoughts lingered for a moment from Meg, and a moment later he found himself running into someone who was much smaller than he, and who let out a small yelp upon impact. "Forgive me," Raoul said, his eyes raising to meet the person before him. And when he saw, his blood chilled. "Christine," He said breathlessly, seeing the familiar girl with the dark curls.

Christine seemed to recognize him immediately; she paled, "R-Raoul..." She stuttered anxiously, her eyes suddenly averting his, "F-forgive me, I was not looking. I am sor- "

"What are you doing here at the Opera?" Raoul interrupted her, still stunned. She was even more beautiful than she had been when he had seen her before in the brothel, she wore a lovely dress now, in place of those terrible rags. Her hair was tied back loosely, and it was out of her face so Raoul could clearly see her every feature. Her porcelain skin was soft-looking, and her eyes were beautiful as they had been, only now they were la_c_ed with fright.

"I... was t-taken here..."

"By whom?"

Christine hesitated. She dare not speak of Erik, especially to Raoul. "A man... He-he purchased me."

Raoul grimaced, of course, she was still acting as a whore. "Who is this man? He works here at the Opera?"

"I hardly know Monsieur," Christine said slowly, "I am not used for small talk."

"Of course," Raoul said distastefully. She was a beautiful woman, eighteen or nineteen years of age, Raoul believed. She obviously disliked her position, so why now would she speak of it so openly? "Do you know this man by name?"

Christine's eyes lowered for the shame of telling a falsehood, "No."

"Why would he be at the Opera?"

"Monsieur," Christine said sharply, "Forgive me if I do not wish to exchange casualties with you."

Raoul nodded, scowling, "Yes, of course, Christine."

"Mademoiselle Daae," Christine commanded bravely.

"Mademoiselle Daae," Raoul replied through gritted teeth. How dare she treat him so coldly? Raoul looked Christine up and down, from the scowl upon her face to her feet, which were hidden beneath her skirts. He found his eyes rest upon her middle section.

"If you have forgotten, Monsieur," Christine cried, her voice rimmed with anger, "I am not to be purchased by you now. If you would kindly not treat me as you did upon our prior meeting, and as a lady."

_"You _are hardly a lady," Raoul replied harshly.

"And you, Monsieur, are hardly a gentlemen, if you must use bought pleasures from a whore house." Christine said bitingly.

Raoul grimaced, "Forgive me, Mademoiselle, but I have business elsewhere. _Good day." _

Christine said nothing as Raoul made his way around her, walking further down the corridor. She closed her eyes and let out a breath, feeling her heart still pounding wildly in her chest. Seeing him look at her as if she were for sale made her feel as she had before- filthy, degraded.

She shook away the horrible feeling, and began starting down the hall in the opposite direction Raoul had been walking. She glanced out the window when she reached the front area of the Opera house, seeing that night had begun to fall. Everybody would be in their chambers by now, she decided. She made her way to the stage, and found a organ in the orchestra pit. She took a few empty pages of sheet music she had taken from Erik's desk, and seated herself before the organ. She began to write.

**~o0o~**

Raoul went down a flight of stairs, hearing the wooden steps squeak and squeal beneath his feet. He knew not where the staircase led, but it had been toward the end of the corridor. He heard some stirring at the bottom of the steps, and when he got there he turned a corner and found himself in a small chapel. He saw a woman sitting in the window sill, and she moved her gaze to him, tilting her head sideways. He found himself staring into the eyes of Meg Giry, and he began toward her, "Meg, is it?" He asked.

Meg nodded, "And you are the Vicomte De Chagny."

"I am," Raoul said. He gestured to the other side of the window sill, "May I join you?"

"If you wish," Meg replied, moving to make more space for him. When Raoul sat next to her, she asked, "How do you like it that Opera, Vicomte? Do you find it to your liking?"

Raoul smiled a bit, "I do. Have you lived here long?"

"All my life."

"Do you like it here?"

Meg returned the smile, "It is my home, Vicomte. I adore it here."

"Please, my name is Raoul."

Meg tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, smiling, "Raoul."

**~o0o~**

Christine clutched the filled sheet music in her hands, making her way down to the lair. She bit her lip with all her might, eager to show Erik her newest aria. Soon, she had arrived in the candle-lit lair, and she saw Erik seated at his organ, playing a soft melody. "Erik," She said, making him turn.

Instantly, a smile came to Erik's face, "Christine. Did you enjoy looking about the Opera?"

"It is so beautiful, everything is so decorative." Christine replied.

Erik smiled, "Yes, it is." His gaze moved to the pieces of parchment she held in her hands, "What is that?"

"I... wrote an aria," Christine answered him sheepishly. She felt as though she were an amateur.

Erik was pleased. "Have you? Let me see it."

"No," Christine said hastily, "I want to sing it with you. It is a duet."

"Of course," Erik stood, gesturing Christine toward him.

Christine set the music down, and said, "You begin the song."

"Very well."

The music began, and Christine played the organ in a melody that was simply breathtaking. It was not rich and beautiful, like Erik's pieces. But still, it was sweet and lovely. Erik began to sing, his voice ringing through the lair. It was more beautiful than Christine remembered.

_"Some times I see_

_Past the horizon_

_Sure of my way_

_where I am going- _

_But where's the prize_

_I have my eyes on?_

_Where- there is just no knowing!"_

Erik stared at Christine's back, seeing her playing his organ as if she knew it as well as he. He read the music, surprised by the pure beauty of the song. Christine turned and looked at him, giving him a half smile. He sang again.

_"And when despair_

_Tears me in two_

_Who can I turn to, but you?_

_You know who I am_

_Take me as I am..."_

Christine began to sing then, and she stood so she was still playing, but she and Erik were side to side.

_"Look in my eyes_

_Who do you see there?_

_Someone you know_

_Or, just a stranger?_

_If you are wise, you will see me there_

_Love_

_Is the only danger_

_Love meaning me_

_Love meaning you_

_We'll make that one dream come true_

_You know who I am_

_Take me as I am..."_

The two sang in unison, their voices entwining, just as their eyes did. Christine felt her breathing hitch, knowing what she would do in just one moment.

_"Though fate won't always do what we desire_

_Still- we can set the world on fire!_

_Give me your hand! _

_Give me your heart!"_

Only Erik's voice rang out now, and the two alternated every verse.

_"Swear to me, we'll never part!"_

_"We'll never part!"_

_"You know who I am!"_

_"You know who I am!"_

_"This is who I am!"_

_"This is who I am!"_

Christine lifted both of her shaking hands from the organ, letting the music cease for one moment. In a second- before Erik could react- her fingertips curled beneath the edges of his mask, and ripped it from his face. She stared at him for a moment, soaking in his disfigurement. Erik wanted to scream, in the moment. Seeing the fright in Christine's eyes made his soul crumble. But suddenly, Christine took his face between her hands, and lifted her lips to his in a brief, sweet kiss. When she pulled away, both had tears in their eyes. But together, they sang the final line of Christine's melody.

_"Take me... as... I am..."_

* * *

**_DISCLAIMER: _I don't own the song Erik and Christine sang. That is Take Me As I am from Jekyll and Hyde by Frank Wildhorn.**

**Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed it! I will update whenever I am able. Another thing, I am debating whether this should be a MegxRaoul story? Yes, no? Tell me what you'd prefer! Thanks!**

**_IceQueen13345_  
**


	7. A Sinister Secret

**Author's Note: **Yeah... if it's not obvious in this chapter, there will be no RxM. Sorry to those of you who liked the idea of Raoul and Meg, but I've gotten about 6 PMs and 4 reviews saying no Meg and Raoul. Thanks for my 7 or so reviews on chapter 6! I really appreciate it. And now...

_IceQueen13345_

* * *

_**Facade**_

_**Chapter 7- A Sinister Secret**_

**~o0o~**

Erik's tears entwined with Christine's, their foreheads pressed against one another's. Her hand was still upon Erik's malformation, her fingers running up and down the marred skin. It was hideous, she could not deny, but still she could see... _him. _She pulled away from him, her eyes locked with his.

Erik slowly reached for the mask she held in her hand, and she let it free of her grasp. "How do you stand it?" He said between his soft sobs, covering his face with the mask.

Christine wiped a tear from Erik's cheek, "Because it is you, Erik."

"I am a monster," Erik turned away from Christine, ashamed of his abhorrent distortion. "And you an Angel far above me."

"I am not an Angel," Christine insisted, moving her hand to Erik's back, "do you forget where you found me? A brothel, Erik! I was condemned to being a woman of the night, I lost my purity to men I hardly knew the name of." Tears rimmed her eyes, "you are the Angel. To endure such pain you must have felt. Please, Erik. Turn and face me."

Erik's eyes closed, and shame filled him. How could he allow his guard down? That stone wall of safety had been torn down in a single moment. Christine would be his undoing. He looked at her- her tearstained face, sparkling eyes. She was so beautiful. Every essence of her filled with primitive lovliness and innocence. His fingertips brushed underneath her chin, and he felt more hot tears run down his face. "Christine," he whispered softly to her, his seductive voice soothing her. He leaned down a bit, and kissed her gently on her lips, feeling her react instantly.

Her hands moved to the back of his neck, her fingers running through his hair as he kissed her sweetly and slowly. Christine pulled away slowly, staring into Erik's deep green eyes, which were glittering with tears. She gave him a sad smile. Erik examined her, "What is wrong?"

Christine looked down, shaking her head a little, "I was just thinking... I met someone earlier this evening. Someone... I met before, at the brothel."

Worry read in Erik's eyes, "What do you mean? Who?"

"A man named Raoul." Christine answered slowly, "I do not know his business at the Opera."

"What did he do to you?"

"Nothing... today."

Erik looked at Christine, and she saw anger lacing his eyes, "At the brothel, what happened with him? Did he hurt you?"

"Not much more than the others..." When Christine saw the disbelief in Erik's expression, she sighed and sat down, "Yes." She said breathlessly, "He hurt me. Erik, you could not imagine what it felt like. He- "

"This, on your arm," Erik sat beside her, staring at a large, purple bruise on Christine's upper arm, "was he the cause of this? And all of these marks on your neck?"

Christine rubbed her arm, flinching, for it was still very sore, "Yes, he caused these. I suppose- "

"And he is here? In _my _Opera?" Erik growled fiercely, and there was such anger in his voice Christine almost fear it. "I will murder him," Erik mutter beneath his breath.

"No, Erik, please," Christine cried. "Do not do anything you will regret."

"I will hardly regret this," Erik snarled.

Christine looked up into his hard eyes, "Please." She took a few steps toward him.

Erik sighed, and let her lean into his chest, his hands sliding across her waist, "Do you have any idea what you do to me, Christine?"

Christine gave him a devious smile and looked up, kissing him briefly on the lips, "Yes I do."

**~o0o~**

**The next day...**

Raoul's mind was far from easy. All that was on his mind was Christine, and he cursed himself for it. She was meant to only put his needs aside, to pleasure him. But now, to think of her warm touch and soft, tender skin made him feel aroused. Raoul cursed under his breath. He had been to many brothels many a time, so why did Christine captivate him now? What made her different from all the other whores? All Raoul knew, was that he once again was seeking for a woman's flesh, something that a man could never keep at bay for long.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Raoul stood and opened it, seeing the face of Meg Giry to greet him. "Meg," He said, almost hoarsely. To his horror, Meg was wearing her costume for the Opera they were working on at the present, Hannibal. She wore a few shreds of clothing on the upper half of her body, but only enough to cover her breasts. Still, the top half of her costume was cleavage-barring. She wore a skirt, it was short, showing most of her thighs. Raoul tried to move his gaze and meet her eyes.

Meg smiled, "We just finished a rehearsal. I thought I might come down to see you, if you are not preoccupied."

Raoul drew in a sharp breath, moving out of the doorway, "No, no, please come in. I am happy to have the company."

Meg entered, and sat down on a chaise across from where Raoul had taken a seat.

"Did rehearsal go well?" Raoul asked, clearing his throat and trying to keep his gaze at her eyes.

Meg nodded, "It did. I am beginning to become rather tedious with Hannibal- we performed it last year as well. And Carlotta's been simply horrible these last few days."

"Ah, yes, I believe I heard La Carlotta sing yesterday," Raoul said, unable to tear his gaze from Meg's cleavage. "She, ah... had an interesting, um, voice..."

Meg shifted, knowing exactly where he was looking, "Yes... she's horrid, isn't she?"

"Yes."

There was silence then, and Meg looked about the room, feeling immensely uncomfortable with Raoul's stare upon her. At last, she spoke, her voice edged with a sharp tone, "Raoul, please. May I ask why you continue to stare at... me?"

Raoul looked up, shifting, "Forgive me."

Meg nodded, and began to say something. But she lost her words, when Raoul came over and sat by her. She looked down, feeling terribly embarrassed. She could feel his eyes upon her, and suddenly she knew that she was wanted. She _felt _wanted. A desire rose inside her suddenly, and she tried to protest to it, hating herself for feeling this way. But she could hardly contain herself. She lifted her lips to Raoul's, kissing him. She felt his hands wrap around her waist, and her blonde hair tumbled onto him.

Raoul was overwhelmed with a feeling of desire, no, not just that. But _lust. _He pulled Meg's shirt over her blonde head, until she was completely topless. His hands ran over her breasts, and he brought his lips to her nipple. One of his hands, however, was on Meg's arm, gripping her with such force that she squirmed around to try to free it. But he was far too strong for her. She could feel her arm begin to bruise, and her breast ached terribly. He bit at her navel, making her cry out in pain.

Conscience came to her then, and she squirm away from Raoul. "Please," She said, attempting to catch her breath, "we mustn't." She reached for her costume, but Raoul came on top of her then, his eyes burning with passion.

Meg let out a whimper of fright, for Raoul was nude now, and she knew she would soon would be as well. "St-stop!" She cried, just before Raoul kissed her again, forcefully now, and his tongue explored her mouth roughly.

His hand ran down her thigh, and he squeezed on her upper thigh, his fingers soon exploring between her thighs, making her cry out in pain. She writhed beneath him, like a hunted animal beneath a trap. She was a strong little thing, Raoul realized with a flourish of anger as she hit him with all her might, taking every opportunity to scream.

But that would not matter in one moment, Raoul decided, and with force and speed, her pushed into her. Warm liquid came flooding from beneath her thighs, and Raoul felt the crimson liquid stain all over him. She was bleeding.

Her scream was so pain-filled Raoul almost jumped off of her, for she screamed directly in his ear. Tears flooded down Meg's face, and she called out in pain again.

Raoul only pushed deeper into her, kissing her again and causing her to cry out once more. But soon, he pushed out of her, collapsing beside her.

Meg's whole body shook with pain and fear, and she sobbed silently.

A few moments later, she and Raoul were both dressed again; and no words were said. But just as she was about to leave, Raoul grasped her arm with a forceful grip, "I would not dare to tell anyone of this, if I were you, Miss Giry," he commanded through gritted teeth.

Another tear found its way down Meg's cheek, and she merely turned and walked away. Everything had gone wrong.

**~o0o~**

Christine loved going up to the Opera. Now, she was walking in the main area, near the front door, seeing the people buzzling about to go do their jobs. Nobody seemed to take heed to her as she walked cheerfully through the Opera. She adored the Opera- everything was so beautiful. Christine made her way to the stage, seeing a few of the chorus girl practicing their dance.

She heard someone clear their throat behind her, and she turned to meet a pair of sparkling blue eyes. A girl looked back at her; she was blonde and a bit taller than Christine. She blinked confusedly, "I'm sorry," She said in a sweet voice, "Do I know you?"

Christine shook her head, "No, Mademoiselle, I am merely visiting the Opera. My name is Christine Daae."

The girl smiled, but something in her smile seemed false, as if it were somewhat forced. "I am Meg Giry."

"A pleasure," Christine said softly. "Do you work here?"

"Yes, as a chorus girl."

Christine looked down, "Forgive my impertinance- do you know of a man named Raoul? I..." Her voice trailed of a bit, "I met him before. I wondered if he worked at the Opera?"

Meg's face twisted in a peculiar expression Christine could not describe, "Yes, I have met the Vicomte De Chagny. He is a new Patron at the Opera."

Christine mustered a smile, "Thank you."

"You are welcome. If you will excuse me, I must get to rehearsal." Meg said coldly.

"Of course," Christine moved aside and allowed Meg to pass her. There was something strange about her, Christine thought to herself. But she did not think about it for too long, she began to make her way back down to the lair. She wanted to see Erik.

When she arrived amongst the candles and the familiar lake, she did not see Erik at first, but when she turned the corner into the small area she found him seat before his music box. Erik looked up at her and smiled, "Christine."

Christine sat near him, tilting her head sideways, "Do you know of a chorus girl by the name Meg Giry?"

"Indeed."

"Would you tell me of her?"

Erik thought for a moment, "She is obedient. She has lived here at the Opera for all of her life. There is not much else I know of her. Why do you ask?"

"I met her," Christine said, "She seemed... preoccupied. Frightened, perhaps." Christine shook her head, feeling foolish for even asking.

Erik stood, "I took the liberty of packing your bags."

Christine frowned, "May I ask why?"

"My friend has returned. He wishes me to meet him at the manor. I thought we might stay there for a few days." Erik replied.

**~o0o~**

**At the manor...**

Erik pushed open the heavy front door of his manor, allowing Christine to enter first before him. She came in and looked about the elegant hall. She heard a shuffling about on the first floor, and heard a muffled "Erik?" from the next room.

A man exited into the hall, and he stopped before Christine, staring at her. He had dark hair, and it was a bit shorter than Erik's. He had brown eyes and tan skin. He was tall and muscled, similar to Erik, but he was a bit shorter, and not quite as muscled. He looked quite similar to Erik, and now he watched her with fascination. "And who might you be?" He asked silkily.

Erik set down Christine's bags and made his way over to her, his arm resting on her waist, "This is Christine. Christine, this is my friend Nadir."

"Why do you say 'friend' so coldly, Erik?" Nadir said, grinning. "I rather thought you'd be happy to see me." Nadir moved his gaze she Christine, and he gave her a gracious nod, "A pleasure, Miss..."

"Daae, Christine Daae," Christine replied.

Nadir smiled kindly, "Daae." His gaze moved to Erik, but he still spoke to Christine, "I see you have been to Erik's, ah, other home."

Christine nodded, "Yes... I enjoy it there."

Erik coughed, "Yes, well, shall we go into the foyer?"

The three of them made their way into the foyer, and Christine took a seat next to Erik, Nadir seated across from them. Nadir raised an eyebrow, "And have you been gracious enough to show your friend what lies behind your mask, Erik?"

Erik grimaced, "I have."

Nadir grinned, "Wonderful. And what do you think, Christine? A monster, isn't he?" He laughed playfully, and Erik could not help but smile in return.

Nadir suddenly grew serious then, and his eyes cast upon Christine, "Has he told you, yet, of he came to have it?"

Erik's smile evaporated instantly.

Christine looked from one man to the other, "I... had thought he was born with it," She said uncertainly.

"Oh, no," Nadir replied darkly, "He was born quite handsome. It happened when we were children- "

"That's quite enough, Nadir," Erik snapped.

Nadir nodded, looking to the ground.

Christine looked at Erik, "What happened? How did you- "

"Please, Christine," Erik interrupted, trying to keep his voice soft. "Not now."

Nadir began to differ the subject, "Now, Christine. You say your last name is Daae? Have you any relation to the Swedish Violinist?"

* * *

**Doesn't that ending SUCK?! Uggg I really hate myself, because 1) it's a really short chapter and 2) everything went way too fast in this chapter. But I simply can't think of a way to make it better. That's my problem, I either go really fast or really slow. Hope you guys read on nonetheless :/ Like I said, I am sorry! I will try to make the next chapter better, I promise! :)**

**_IceQueen13345_  
**


	8. With Every Breath

_****_**Author's Note: **Well, here is chapter 8. I got a little bit lazy towards the end of the chapter, so I apologize for that. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. I've been pretty busy, so I am sorry for the delay- I've made a trip with my brother to stay with my dad for the next few weeks, and between family reunions and countless hours of driving I've been writing here and there. This chapter is about 7 pages, which isn't too bad.

If anyone would like to friend me on facebook, find me on . .12 I'd be happy to friend anyone. I'd appreciate any feedback or criticisms on this chapter. Thank you.

_IceQueen13345_

* * *

_**Facade**_

_**Chapter 8- With Every Breath**_

**~o0o~**

**At Destler Manor...**

Sleep did not come for Christine. She lay awake in her spacious bed, arms and legs sprawled about, staring up at the ceiling. Christine had been merely staring upward in silence for hours, she almost felt as though she had memorized every crack and crevice on the ceiling. The night was black, but her eyes had adjusted rather quickly. She felt tiredness rage through her, but despite her exhaustion she could not keep her eyes closed for a moment. Her thoughts kept turning, first to Erik.

He had acted so strangely, when Monsieur Nadir had said something about his face. Christine had felt immensely uncomfortable after that, and she had kept glancing at Erik, as if she expected to read the secret in his eyes. There was something her was keeping from her; that was clear enough. Something in him shifted slightly, after Nadir mentioned his accident- if the malformation of his face had been an accident, after all. Throughout the rest of the night, Erik had seemed irritable. His words edged with anger and eyes lined with frustration, as if he longed for something, that was far too out of reach. Christine had studied him, and every once in a while he'd notice and meet her gaze. A stare would hold between them for a time, before Christine broke away, feeling sheepish.

Nadir, too, acted strangely afterwards. He never looked Christine directly in the eye, and he kept throwing somewhat threatening glances to Erik. Almost as if he wished for Erik to admit something. He had started a few, skittered little conversations with Christine, but mostly they sat in silence, consumed in their thoughts. Christine had felt a terrible atmosphere about the two men, and had longed to just run up to her bedchambers and lock herself in.

Christine's thought turned, switching to that one blonde girl she had met earlier that evening at the Opera House. Meg Giry, her name. Something about her seemed strange, though perhaps that was merely because Christine did not know her well. She seemed anxious about something, as if she were on the verge of tears. Her eyes had been panic-stricken, though her smile had been warm. Christine knew that look, she had had that look upon her face before, in the brothel. Many times she had to put a smile upon her face to please men, though her eyes read defeat, panic, pain.

She remembered Raoul, too, and suddenly she could nearly feel his deathly grip upon her upper arms and collar bone, on her thighs and in between them. His teeth biting bruisingly on her nipples. The strong smell of whiskey on his breath. Every moment, every breath of that night he had purchased her came clear in her mind. She could hear his moans, loud in her ear. He caressed her gropingly, with overwhelming and powerful force. After he had finished with her almost every inch of her ached.

Christine felt herself begin to shake, thinking of Raoul's powerful grip. After that night, she had never wanted to touch a man again- to never allow herself to be hurt as she had been.

She bit her lip, thinking once more of Erik. He was kind to her, treated her with gentleness. She would live in his company for the majority if not all of her life, she had realized this since he had purchased her. Still, it was a mystery why he had purchased her to begin with. He had never told her, never used her as all the other piggish men had. Her looked at her as if she were a lady, a woman of high class. He made her feel as though she were beautiful, pure. She knew little about him, however. Christine shifted in her bed a little, throwing most of the covers from herself. It was terrible hot in her bedchamber tonight. But despite the relentless heat, Christine felt a shiver run up her spine, thinking of Erik. Something in him, a spark, that lit a bursting flame inside of her. Through his music she had begun to understand things she knew not before.

At the same moment, however, she felt as though she should writhe from him. Break away from his secrecy. She knew so little of him, why he had taken her to begin with. There was much he had not told her, though she had hardly expected him to tell her anything in the first place. He hid something, something far greater than the secret behind his malformation. Something he dared not tell her.

Christine tossed her legs over the side of her bed, far too overwhelmed by her thoughts. She squinted to read the clock that hung upon her wall, seeing it was shortly after midnight. She turned and began to make her way back to her bed, longing for sleep. But suddenly, a soft knock came from the opposite side of the door, and Christine went to answer it. She opened the door, and saw Erik standing in the doorway, the moon casting upon him, shadowing the unmasked half of his face. "I... hope I did not wake you," He said, his silky voice soft and gentle.

"No," She replied softly, "I was not able to sleep."

"I am sorry to hear that," Erik said, perhaps a bit to hastily. He drew a breath and met Christine's eyes, "I wanted to apologize for earlier this evening. I must have made a terrible impression on you."

Christine smiled weakly, "I understand, some things you do not wish to remember."

Erik nodded, "What happened... it was part of my past. A ghostly past I had long hoped I would have forgotten by now... I very much try to forget which I why- "

"Yes," Christine interrupted him, "I know what you mean."

Erik cleared his throat, "I know you do."

Christine smiled, "Was that all you wanted?"

"Yes, goodnight, Christine." Erik replied hoarsely, turning around and beginning to walk into the hall.

"Erik, wait," Christine called to him gently. When Erik turned to face her she said, "Please. I wanted to ask you..."

"Yes?"

Christine looked up at him, "When you purchased me, what was your intent of doing with me?"

"You were very lonely," Erik replied. "I have been trapped behind a dark solitude myself, and I knew such an Angel as yourself did not deserve such a fate."

Christine could see a trace of a tear beginning to form in Erik's eye, and she took a few slow steps toward him, gently wiping the tear from his eye. Her hand stayed there for a moment, and slid down so that it was caressing his cheek. She moved upward, so that her lips meant his. She kissed him gently, feeling his arms wrap about her waist. A chill ran up and down her spine as her hands found his back. She stumbled, walking backwards, leading Erik towards the bed before allowing herself to fall onto it, taking Erik with her.

With slight hesitation, Erik kissed her, rolling onto his back so that she was on top of him. Her fingers laced through his black hair. She began to unbutton his shirt, her hands running over his chest as his tongue met hers inside her mouth. Erik kissed her neck, being sure to be gentle on her. Her had never felt a woman against him, how had wanted him as Christine did. And he was determined not to hurt her.

In moments Erik's shirt had been cast across the bedchamber, and Christine's nightdress as well. All she wore now was a bodice and a slick underskirt, fit for sleeping. Christine's breathing hitched when Erik's fingers fondled the area in between her thighs, and she let out a moan, "Oh, Erik..."

Erik felt Christine's teeth gently nip at his tongue, and she writhed about a bit with pleasure. He tried to contain himself, being as gentle with her as he could be. She was so beautiful; he was not worthy of her love. He should not be doing this... it would have been best for him to have left before any of it had begun. To not have entered her bedchamber to begin with. But he had loved her from the moment he had set eyes upon her. She was so breathtakingly perfect, so angelic.

Christine felt Erik resisting slightly, and she repositioned herself on top of him. Something was wrong. She kissed him again, a bit more forcefully. Images flashed through her mind. The men, on top of her, their hands gripping her shoulders and arms. The smell of alcohol staining their breath. She pulled away from him, feeling rosebushes of embarrassment flood her cheeks. "I can't..." She said breathlessly, removing herself from him. A tear slid down her face, "Erik, forgive me, I can't."

"No," Erik said, "Forgive me... I should not have allowed this to carry on..."

Christine nodded slowly, feeling her cheeks burn. "I am sorry."

"Christine, you are an Angel. You have given me all the pleasure in those few moments that I should ever need," Erik said softly, he met her eyes.

She kissed him softly on his lips, "Goodnight, Erik."

Erik smiled a small smile, "Goodnight, Christine."

**~o0o~**

**At the Opera...**

Meg felt cold. The bland colored sun brought a sort of dismal glow into the empty chorus girls' chambers. Meg had told her mother to excuse herself from the performance, for she had felt quite ill. Meg allowed a warm, salty tear to find its way down her cheek and fall onto the beds' white sheets. Her mind was blank, and her eyes lifeless. She blinked slowly, her breathing coming in slow gasps, as though she were crying silently. She had spoken to no one of what had happened the previous day. How she had been an utter fool in blindly trusting a man. A vicious, horrible man.

Meg started when the door leading to her chambers was yanked opened and slammed with a loud thump. Her mother, Marie Giry, came in, a hard look on her face. "Meg," She said sharply, "We need you for this performance. Opening night is tomorrow."

"Mother, please. I am in no position to be rehearsing now. I told you- I feel terribly ill." Meg said sweetly.

"You have no fever, you're coloring is normal. You look perfectly well."

"I am fatigued."

"Meg, we need you tomorrow. Do you believe you should be all right to perform?"

Meg sighed and fought back tears, "I do not."

"Meg you must think of the audience before yourself!"

"I am! I am hardly fit to be performing now. I would ruin the production."

Marie tapped her foot on the wooden floor, "I hardly believe that."

"Please, mother. I could not face it."

Marie sighed, shaking her head, "The Vicomte De Chagny insists upon you coming to rehearsal."

"Hang the Vicomte de Chagny."

Marie's eyes burned into her daughter, "What did you just say? Meg, he has been very generous to the Opera and to us!"

"To you perhaps!" Meg cried, standing from her bed, "He has done nothing for me! He funds the Opera only because it brings him more wealth than he spends."

"Bit your tongue!" Marie exclaimed, "If anyone else should hear you say such things- "

"I do not care what others hear."

Marie frowned, "What ails you, Meg? You are different now... strange..."

"Nothing!"

Marie sighed, "I know you are ill. I am sorry for you. But you _must _join the rehearsal. _Now."_

**~o0o~**

**After the rehearsal...**

Christine wandered about the Opera. Rehearsals had just ended, and she had enjoyed watching those. Not many people minded if she merely walked in backstage, she realized. She had looked for Meg Giry, and seen her for the last twenty minutes or so of the performance. Christine had watched in admiration all the people dancing about, singing. She had always loved performing.

Now, she stood backstage, watching the performers and stage workers file out of the room. She looked about, when it was empty, being sure nobody was there. She smiled softly to herself and walked out onto the empty stage. She looked out at the empty seats, smiling and imagining herself dressed in that beautiful gown she had seen La Carlotta- the Opera's Prima Donna- wearing. She could nearly hear the gentle lull of the violins, playing a breathtaking melody.

Often times, Christine's father had taken her to his performances. Afterwards, he had taken her out to the stage, and play something for her whilst she sang. She had loved those moments, staring up at her father's eyes, gleaming with pride. Feeling as if, for those few fleeting moments, the world was just her and her father. As if nothing else in the world mattered but her and Gustave.

Christine snapped back to reality, as a tear found its way down her cheek. She wiped it from her face, and then she began to sing. It was a song from the rehearsals, and she had adored it since the moment she had heard it.

_"Think of me_

_Think of me fondly_

_When we've said goodbye_

_Imagine me, once in a while_

_Please promise me, you'll try_

_When you find, that once again you long_

_To take your heart back and be free_

_If you ever find, a moment_

_Spare a thought for me..."_

She thought back to the times with her father. How he told her she was his own little Angel. How he loved her and longed for her to be happy.

_"We never said, our love was evergreen_

_Or as unchanging as the sea_

_But if you can still remember_

_Stop and think of me_

_Think of all the things we've shared and seen_

_Don't think about the way things might have been..._

_Think of me, think of me waking_

_Silent and resigned_

_Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind_

_Recall those days, think back on all those times_

_Think of those things we'll never do_

_There will never be a day, when I don't think of you!"_

From backstage, someone watched Christine, staring at her with piercing eyes.

_"Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade_

_They have their seasons, so do we_

_But if you can still remember_

_Please promise me that sometimes, you will think_

_Of me..."_

Christine's eyes opened and she looked out at the empty red seats. Suddenly, she heard the sound of someone clapping. She jerked her head to the side, her breathing catching as her eyes met Raoul's.

"Beautiful," He said, taking a few condescending steps forward. "You really have a lovely voice."

"What is it you want?" Christine asked bitingly.

Raoul's fingers grazed her cheek, "You." He whispered to her.

Christine sneered, turning away, "I've given you what you want. But I am not for sale anymore. I have been purchased."

"By whom?"

"I hardly know his name, Vicomte." Christine growled back, taking a step backwards.

A grin crossed Raoul's face, "Your master would not need to know."

"He would know," Christine said, meeting Raoul's eyes with her own burning gaze. "Whether you believe it or not, he treats me with kindness."

"Does he? And where did you get this?" Raoul grabbed Christine's arm, making her gasp at the suddenly contact with him. He put pressure on a large purple bruise on her upper arm.

Christine pulled away forcefully, hating to feel Raoul's touch on her again. "I have been handled brutally by many men. But not E-" She paused, "my master."

"So he treats you well," Raoul said, bringing his face inches apart from hers, "But you have lived a whore's life for so long. Do you not want- " Without finishing his sentence, Raoul pushed Christine into him, his hands covering her body. She gasped, writhing and straining for liberation. But Raoul held her down forcefully, pressing her into him. He whispered in her ear, "You're nothing but a whore, Christine. You cannot help it. But I can help you."

Christine's eyes widened, "Let me go," She whispered, alarmed.

Raoul let her go violently, pushing her to the ground. He laughed boarishly and left the stage, leaving Christine on the ground.


End file.
